Icks do not Exist.

Icks cannot be real
Icks are disgusting creatures
Therapy said so.

God Is Dead

"God Is Dead,"
Nietzche said,
The Nazis came,
soiled his name,
Then his ideas spread.

From Batalie to Jung,
The philosophers sung
Praise of the great
Friedrich Nietzche
"Out with the old, in with the young."


In the realm of the psyche, a pioneer stood,
A master of dreams, unraveling the hood.
Sigmund Freud, the seer, with his insightful might,
Peered into the shadows, bringing truths to light.

Through the corridors of the unconscious mind,
He ventured boldly, seeking what he'd find.
Psychoanalysis, his tool of the trade,
Unveiling hidden desires that often stayed.

The id, the ego, the superego's reign,
He dissected the complexities of the brain.
In dreams and slips of tongue, he sought to reveal,
The layers of the psyche, both shallow and concealed.